He told me he’d just moved to Los Angeles but I didn’t think he was serious.

“I moved up here in March.”

“That was only a few weeks ago.”

“I wasn’t kidding.”

He’d told me about the move up here. I should have run immediately. It got worse. I listened to the tales that lead him to relocate up to Los Angeles. Of heartache and pain and… hardship but you’d never know it by looking at him. I suppose we shared a few things in common. With others, we couldn’t be more different.

“This place is gorgeous.”

“It’s a historical landmark. Here’s a picture of it…”

Swing metal robins egg blue doors greeted us as we got to his floor. I had never seen an elevator like his in anything outside of a movie.

Inside it was a combination of white and earth tones. The furnishings sent the message that he had tastes of a higher but grounded simplistic caliber. There were only a couple of things on the wall. His apartment inside was massive. And while it was beautiful, something felt missing.

“I got rid of all of the decorations and things when I left San Diego. It was too hard on me. I’d collected all of that when I was with my wife. We’d picked it out together. I couldn’t have it here. I wanted a true opportunity to start over.”

His tale continued to get worse. It’s funny how the little things around us tell so much about us… even the missing things.

“After things were bad with my wife I ended up dating her best friend.”

“How long has that been over?”

“I left San Diego and got here March 1st. I haven’t talked to her since I left.”

“I’m not looking to be your rebound here.”

“You’re not. If anything she was.”

Somehow the conversation changed back to his apartment.

“Why here?”

“Because the agency wanted to open offices here. And I thought the move would be cathartic.”

“How do you like LA? How long do you think you’ll be here? This doesn’t seem like the right part of town for someone like you.”

“Funny I was kind of thinking the same thing. That’s why I have such a short lease. It’s only six months.”

I thought about my apartments here. How for the longest time when I got here I hadn’t unpacked the boxes in a silent rivalry with being here. I thought about how much stuff I’d kept since the divorce. About how much had been purged. About how much probably still needed to be purged.

It’s funny how the little things around us tell so much about us… the missing things and perhaps some of the stuff that should be missing… if you have the courage to let go.